Dazed and Confused
by Jenmm31
Summary: Dean and Sam quit the hunting life and settled down with their families. When tragedy strikes and Dean loses his wife, he finds himself lost in his own anger and depression, causing him to push away his 16 year old daughter. Will he be able to overcome these feelings and move on? Or will he fall back into his old ways and drag his daughter along with him?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! So I wrote this story way back in September during some stormy weather. Thanks to ispiltthemilk for helping me come up with the storyline and to sweetkiwi604 for reading it and helping me push through to the end! It's different from my other stories, but I hope you guys like it! It will have three chapters, which I already have typed up, so it shouldn't be long between updates :)**

**Credit to Led Zeppelin's song for the story title. **

**Read, Review, and ENJOY! **

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It all started four months ago. Four months ago, on a cold February morning. A thin layer of snow had dusted the ground throughout the night and then time almost seemed to stand still outside of the hospital walls. Dean clasped his wife Laura's hand, holding it close to his lips, wanting to breath in the warmth of her body while he still could. Uninvited tears filled his eyes, as a few stray ones escaped and trailed down his face. And then it happened. The moment he had tried to brace himself for during the last 6 months. The moment he had played over and over in his head to try to familiarize himself with just the _idea_ that one day he would lose her. But none of that had actually worked. There was nothing that could prepare someone for the moment they lost their loved one.

His eyes refused to blink as he stared at her chest, willing it to move up and down with life just for a few seconds longer, but it didn't. It never rose again. The nurse walked over and turned off the monitor and the room was filled with a deafening silence as reality began to settle in. As the nurse quietly excused herself, the tears came freely now. Unable to hold them in as pain and helplessness surged through his entire being.

After he was able to pull himself together momentarily, he did the only thing he could. He called Sam. Dean was never one to admit that he needed help, but then again, he had never been so far under like he felt right now. Death had plagued his family from birth, and he had learned to deal with it over and over again. But there was something different about it this time. Because _this time_ he hadn't been able to see what was coming. He was blindsided in the worst way and then there was no way he could fix it. And to top it all off, he had no idea how he was going to tell his 16 year old daughter that her mother had lost her battle with cancer. How would he be able to form the words and tell Allison? He was slightly thankful that Laura had insisted she continue going to school so she wouldn't fall behind. Dean couldn't bear the thought of her seeing him like this. Lost. Hopeless. Broken. But Sam, Sam would know what to say. The words would come effortlessly for him and he would know how to comfort her. He would know what to do, because at this moment, Dean wasn't even sure he could take care of himself.

* * *

The first few weeks were full of hard adjustments. Coming home to an empty bedroom, knowing Laura would never step foot in there again. Everywhere Dean looked, there was something to remind him of her. Her favorite coffee mug. Pictures on the wall. Her empty seat at the table. A closet full of clothes. A half empty bottle of her perfume. The memories were almost suffocating. The funeral passed in a haze and he could barely recall any details. He had been on autopilot, not fully comprehending what he was doing, but going through the motions nonetheless. Thankfully, Sam had stayed as long as he could, but he had his own wife and kids to get back to. So Dean and Allison were left to meddle through it together.

There were silent dinners every night, where only the polite "How was your day?" was exchanged. _Fine, Okay, Good_. The answers never changed. Details were never shared. It was a half assed attempt on both of their ends to try to restore some normality. Then Allison would retreat to her room to hide from the reality outside of her bedroom walls, to avoid watching her father slowly drink himself into oblivion.

Dean would drink to forget, to get away from this nightmare that devoured his every waking thought, and even then it would haunt his dreams. He drank to numb the pain, to put out the fire of anger building up in his chest, to try to ignore the over consuming helplessness that he felt. He had spent his entire life hunting all things evil. He had saved countless lives and always managed to get the bad guy one way or another. But not this time. The one time that it had mattered the most. Something evil had slowly taken over his wife's body and he hadn't even known, until it was too late. The cancer had already spread to her lungs, spine, and brain and there was nothing left for modern medicine to do. He had wanted to make a deal, to fix this. The night after he had found out the cancer was terminal, he disappeared into the darkness, in search of the crossroads. It had worked once, so he had to work again—the sheer thought of going back to hell not even fazing him.

But much to his surprise, he found Sam already waiting for him there. He had known what lengths Dean would go to. Sam tried to talk him down from the ledge and told him how selfish he was being, inconsiderate for not thinking of his daughter. Dean let him believe he was convinced, but the next free moment he had, he was back to the same crossroad. Only the demon wouldn't deal. Said one offer was all a person could have in a lifetime, and there was no way a Winchester could be an exception. He chose to save Sam all those years back, and now he was going to have to sit by and watch his wife slowly die right in front of his eyes. He was so used to saving people he hadn't even know, but when it was the one he loved most and couldn't fix it? There was no erasing that feeling, not for Dean Winchester.

Each morning, Allison would walk down the steps to see her dad sprawled out in the same position on the couch as the previous morning, beer bottles carelessly discarded on the floor and coffee table. It was the same routine that they had built their lives around now. Dean would start to stir as he heard her footsteps coming down the stairs. Slowly he'd sit up and rub a hand tiredly over his face, trying to quickly cover up any sign of a hangover, even though they both knew it was worthless to try. "Heading to school?" he'd ask when Allison appeared in the living room.

"Yeah," she'd reply with no emotion, effortlessly swinging her backpack over her shoulder.

"See you tonight," he'd call back, equally matching her detached tone in some attempt to convince himself he was still a parent.

Some days Allison would go to school, others she wouldn't. She had been at the top of her class a few months ago, and every day she was falling lower and lower, but there wasn't a bone in her body that cared anymore. A woods sat on the other side of town where she would hide all day, hidden beneath the cluster of trees, out of sight of the knowing stares and concerned glances of her classmates and teachers.

If the school called Dean to let him know about her multiple absences, he never brought it up. They were each caught up in their own world. She wouldn't reach out to him for help or for anything, so he stayed holed up in his own depression as well.

And then things started to change for Dean a few months after Laura's passing. The sadness slowly morphed into anger. An ever growing, all consuming type of fury. The drinking had temporarily masked any form of emotion inside of him, but it wasn't cutting it anymore. The beer bottles turned into glasses of whisky and his nights were no longer spent on the couch, but instead at the table for all hours, pouring over website after website, trying to fill this hole inside of him. One night, it occurred to him that he had to get back out there and save as many people as he could. He _needed_ to save someone's wife or someone's husband, so they would never know or suffer from the same pain as he had. It was the only solution he had.

* * *

Allison entered the house, tossing her jacked on the reclining chair. "Dinner," she announced flatly, holding up a paper take out bad from the burger joint up the street. As she passed by the table, the stack of books beside her father's laptop caught her eye. Tossing the bag carelessly on the table, she grabbed the book on top and started flipping through the pages, each one filled with every type of symbol possible, with Latin scribbled all over.

"What are these?" she asked, her tone almost accusing.

"You know," he replied without taking his eyes off of the computer screen. Yes, she did know what they were. She knew they were books related to her dad's 'previous' life—the one where he hunted demons and everything that went bump in the night. The one where he road tripped it across America with her uncle, saving people from their worst nightmares. She had known about her dad's past for a few years now, after she had stumbled across these books hidden away in the attic. After confronting her parents about it, they had decided Dean should come clean to her. It filled in quite a few blanks she had about why her dad was so absent the first six years of her life, but then Laura had given him an ultimatum: hunting or his family. It took Allison a while to get used to the idea of there being monsters out in the world; however, she was comforted by the fact that even if they did show up, at least her dad knew how to take them out.

"What are you doing?" Allison demanded, throwing the book down on the table. She had heard the story before—how Sam died and Dean sold his soul to bring him back and then somehow it didn't end like they had planned. Details were never shared—how was Dean going to explain that he had literally been to hell and back. But just seeing those books, all kinds of ideas started to fly through her mind.

Not even making eye contact with her, he responded flatly, "That's not your business."

"I think it is my business when my _father_ suddenly takes an interest in his demon books after so many years," she countered, eyes narrowing.

Tearing his eyes away from the computer, he instantly matched her glare and let out a sigh before replying, "It's research about h—."

"About how to work some bewitched mojo and bring mom back," she finished.

Dean's jaw instantly became rigid and his eyes hardened at the mere mention of Laura. "No," he said harshly, as if that explanation was enough. Allison continued to stare at him and for a moment she could have sworn she saw a flicker of remorse pass over his expression, before he said, "I couldn't."

"You tried?!" Her voice was full of disbelief.

"Of course I tried!" he yelled back, matching her voice. "She…she w-," he stuttered, unable to comprehend talking about her in the past tense. "She is my wife!"

Tears began to sting Allison's eyes as she suddenly realized just how close she had been to losing her dad. "Did you ever stop to think about me?" she accused, not able to digest the idea that he had been so willing to leave her behind.

"You were the one I was thinking about! You don't deserve to grow up without a mother!" he yelled, strong emotion lacing each word.

As hard as she tried to hold the tears back, a few escaped down her face as hot anger pumped through here veins. "Yeah, well I don't deserve a drunken father either," she spat, unable to control the words as they passed her lips. At hearing how low she had gone, she was filled with deep regret. She had crossed the line more than she even thought was possible for her. Even though Dean had never laid a hand on her, she half expected him to lunge across the table. But he didn't. He didn't move, didn't talk, didn't flinch. He just stared at her, whether he was digesting her words, thinking of a comeback, or just trying to comprehend the situation, she wasn't sure. The anger was still strong inside of her and even though she had unnecessarily attacked him, she wasn't ready to back down from the first _real_ interaction they'd had in months.

"I would _never_ do anything that'd leave you here alone," Dean finally said, his tone calmer than before.

"You could have fooled me," she jeered, crossing her arms.

Dean took a deep breath, trying to keep his temper in check. "I'm trying to _fix_ this."

"Yeah? How then?" she demanded.

"Hunting," he said flatly.

A small chuckle escaped her lips in pure disbelief. "Hunting? How the hell is that going to _fix_ any of this?" She asked, motioning between them.

"Saving people, Allison. That's what I used to do. I saved people. I…I have to get back out there so every night people can come home to their husbands and wives and never have to deal with this," he explained, mimicking her same gesture. He needed to get back out there and fill the void inside of him and the only way he knew to do that was by hunting.

"So you just leave me here so you can go on some suicide mission to rescue strangers—all in an attempt to what? Put your life back together?" she quipped.

Seeming to ignore her specific question, he replied simply, "You won't be alone. You're coming with me."

* * *

**Sorry to leave you guys on a cliffhanger, but I just couldn't help it :) Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you guys so much for your kind reviews and adding this to your favorites and alerts. Your support is amazing! This part is a little shorter, but I hope you like it just the same! Part 3 will be up soon! Please let me know your thoughts on this chapter! I love reading your reactions and speculations :)**

**Read, Review, and Enjoy!**

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_Seeming to ignore her specific question, he replied simply, "You won't be alone. You're coming with me."_

Taken back by Dean's response, Allison bit, "Yeah right."

Sensing the pure defiance in her tone and her undermining him, Dean stood up to show his authority; however, he got up too quickly and his balance was momentarily thrown off, as he swayed from one side to the other, all thanks to his latest bottle of whisky. Seconds later, he skillfully regained his composure and replied in a low tone, "You don't have a choice in this matter."

Allison eyed the bottle resting on the other side of the table. Only a few drops of the liquid remained, and she knew her father had downed it all. Finally gaining a full understanding of her dad's stability, she knew there was no point in continuing this conversation when he was in this state. This wasn't him talking, she was sure of it. It was half whiskey and half grief doing all the talking.

"You're delusional," she snapped before turning on her heel and disappearing down the hall, not giving him a chance to respond.

As she stepped onto the stairs, the sound of books crashing onto the floor echoed in every corner of the house, causing her to stop dead in her tracks. An eerie silence filled the air until Dean picked up the empty bottle and launched it at the wall, letting out a frustrated sigh. Dark brown pieces of glass shattered onto the floor around him and he got lost in staring at them, each one representing a part of his own broken life. And just like the bottle, there was no way to put it back together.

Allison couldn't hold the tears back anymore at hearing her father's sudden outburst. She took off running up the steps and into her room in search of some refuge. Slouched up against the wall, she pulled her knees tightly into her chest and let the tears flow freely, just like they had many other nights before. Squeezing her eyes shut, she silently willed things to just go back to how they were before, but no matter how many times she asked God, everything was still the same each time she'd open her eyes. Losing her mom had been hard enough to try to process, but now she also had to witness her dad slowly lose his mind and sobriety.

Her dad had finally gone head first into the deep end. Drinking had been expected, but now he was talking about hunting—and forcing her to go along. He clearly wasn't thinking logically because that would go against everything that Laura had fought him about. She had wanted him to choose her…to choose their daughter…over hunting. And he had, but now all of that seemed to be a forgotten memory, locked away somewhere in the back of his mind.

Fear crept up and formed a knot in her throat, letting the panic actively take over. She didn't want to _hunt_. She didn't know anything about hunting and never wanted to see that part of her dad's past up close. The knot tightened, feeling like it was slowly suffocating her, and she decided she just couldn't sit by and let him drag her through the mud along with him. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was handling this way worse than she was and there was just no getting through to him. So she did the only thing she could think of—she picked up the cordless phone she'd left discarded on her nightstand and dialed the ever so familiar numbers.

_"__Hello?"_ a deep, male voice answered, but the noises in the background made it very obvious that she had interrupted something.

"Hey, Uncle Sam," she greeted softly. He had always managed to pick Dean up and push him long, some kind of unbreakable brotherly bond. And he was her only option left.

_"__Hey, Ally, how've you been?"_ Sam asked, trying to sound casual as he made his way to another room that was silent.

"It's not getting better." Her voice trembled as the words came out.

_"__Ally, I know it hurts, but it will-."_

"No, I mean _he's_ not getting any better," she explained, not even needing to say his name.

Truth be told, Sam had been worried about Dean ever since Laura was first diagnosed. Dean was so used to being able to control things and find a way out, but when he couldn't, well, there was no predicting how he'd react. Sam knew it was only been a matter of time before the other shoe dropped and he'd get a call from his niece in a panic.

_"__What happened?"_ Sam pried, needing to know more details to determine the overall threat level.

"He drinks, all the time. Never stops. He barely speaks more than two words to me a day and today…today we got into an argument and then he threw some books and a bottle…," she explained in a single breath through tears, before was interrupted.

_"__Did he hurt you?"_ His tone was dangerously low, as if ready to attack.

"What? No!" she snapped, appalled that he had even thought for a second that Dean would harm her.

_"__I see,"_ he said, not really sure what to make of this, but trying to remain the calm one in this conversation. _"What did you fight about?"_

Allison took a deep breath and explained, "I came home and saw all those Latin and mythology books on the table. I know what they are, they're you guys' old hunting books and now he wants to-,"

There was a sudden interruption as a loud crackling noise sounded, signaling that someone had picked up the other end of the phone. Allison immediately froze, not wanting to say another word, because she instantly realized that it was on her end of the line, meaning her dad had picked up.

Without even checking for a dial tone, Dean grumbled something inaudible as he dialed 7 digits. Then there was a silence as he waited for it to ring. It was the same number he had called countless times over the last months. He just yearned to hear her voice again, and each time he would tell himself that it'd be his last call. He knew he had to move on, but he couldn't. Her familiar voicemail message always managed to bring his heart momentary comfort, even if it was for just a few seconds. And he just couldn't part from it.

Allison began to panic, knowing he was waiting for the rings to begin. The last thing she wanted her dad to know was that she had called Sam about their family drama. He had never liked having their problems shared with others.

"Hello?!" Dean grumbled when it didn't ring, but he could tell someone was there.

Without missing a beat, Sam replied, _"Hey Dean."_

"Sam, what the hell? I didn't call you!" His tone was equal parts confused and purely annoyed.

_"__Yeah, that's because I called you,"_ Sam explained, letting the lie roll so smoothly off of his tongue. Years of practice made it almost second nature for him.

"It didn't ring," Dean countered.

_"__You must have picked up before it did,"_ he offered, knowing he had to cover for his niece. The last thing she had mentioned were the lore books—the ones that Dean had sworn were locked away in some storage unit a few states over. So something was up.

"What do you want?" Dean demanded flatly, clearly not thrilled to suddenly be talking to him.

_"__Just wanted to call and see how things were,"_ he said, trying not to sound overly concerned.

"We're doing fine," he lied just as easily as Sam had.

Knowing not to counter him, Sam replied, _"That's great. Hey, look, I was thinking about coming up to see you guys this weekend. It's been awhile."_

"We're busy," he spat, no emotion in his tone.

_"__Doing….?"_ Sam pried, trying to get some clues as to what was really going on.

Allison's heart raced. She wanted her dad to say _hunting_. To come out and tell Sam just how far off of the reservation he'd gone. "Stuff, Sam. I'll email you a fucking itinerary," he bit, not amused by this unexpected interrogation.

_"__Well I guess I'll just have to come by tomorrow afternoon then,"_ Sam suggested, his tone not leaving room to be turned down.

"Sam," Dean said, almost in a threatening tone. It was the same tone Sam had heard his entire life, the one that said he was fed up.

_"__I haven't seen you or my niece in awhile. Come on, Dean,"_ he all but begged. It was either he willingly agreed to the visit or he'd just show up uninvited anyway, and they both realized that.

Not wanting to argue or drag on the conversation any longer, he relented, "Fine. A _short_ visit," he reminded.

_"__Sounds great! See you guys tomorrow,"_ he finished, trying to sound positive.

Dean mumbled a "yeah" before hanging up the phone.

_"__Ally?"_ Sam asked, unsure if she was still there.

"Thanks, Uncle Sam," she replied in a hushed tone.

_"__Hang in there,"_ he encouraged. Not wanting to risk her dad picking up the phone again, she quickly hung up without saying anything else. She felt some sort of comfort in knowing that her uncle would be there tomorrow and if there was anyone who could understand and get through to Dean, it was him. Sam would make everything right again. He _had_ to make it better. She needed her dad back again. She needed him to help her put the pieces back together. To fix what had been broken, because she couldn't wrap her head around the alternative.

* * *

When Allison walked into the living room the following morning, she was surprised to find it spotless. Two decorative pillows were neatly placed at each end of the couch. The brown blanket was carefully folded and placed over the back of it. The curtains were drawn, letting in glimpses of sunlight. The room almost looked _normal_. A clear indication that Dean hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. Additionally, there wasn't a single trace that a bottle had been shattered, and even the books were nowhere to be found. It was as if their fight had never existed. Dean turned around in the kitchen and noticed her confused expression as she looked around the room, trying to take in the sight.

"Sam's coming over this afternoon," he said, trying to help fill in the blanks for her. Even though she already knew that, she was more shocked that it had been cleaned up so fast.

"Oh cool," she replied nonchalantly, refusing to elaborate anymore.

"Yeah, should be okay," he commented, glancing back over his shoulder at her making her way into the kitchen. He was adamant on making direct eye contact with her, knowing he could always express a thousand words with a single glare. It was one of his super powers. And Allison was getting the message loud and clear—_This visit is going to be okay because Sam won't find out about anything._

She quickly diverted her eyes, feeling the intense pressure of his stare burn into her. She felt like he could somehow see right through her and read the plans on her mind. Muttering a quick "uh-huh", she quickly snagged a granola bar and retreated toward the front door. Satisfied that he had gotten his point across, he went back to making his morning coffee and didn't press the subject any further.

Without exchanging any more glances, Allison opened the door before throwing over her shoulder, "Gotta go, running late," and closed it before he could reply. Dean sighed and ran a hand down his exhausted face, wondering just how he was going to make it through the day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you so much for the kind reviews and messages! Your support has been amazing. I have really enjoyed writing this little story. It was fun to mix it up. ****Here goes the final chapter! A big thank you to SPNxBookworm for all of her help!**

**I know some of you have speculated about how you think it will end...so hopefully this doesn't disappoint. Let me know what you think :)**

**Read, Review, and ENJOY! **

* * *

School went by in a blur and Allison wasn't able to focus on anything because she was so anxious for her uncle to arrive. Every possible scenario went through her mind of what could happen now that Sam would be there. Finally the bell rang, and she all but ran home, eagerly turning onto her street and instantly spotting Sam's car parked in the driveway. She felt herself start to smile for the first time in weeks. It was exciting just thinking that no matter what went down during his visit, it was bound to be for the better, because it was pretty much next to impossible for things to get any worse.

As she approached the house, she glanced into the living room window and saw her dad and uncle sitting on the couch, obviously caught up in some conversation. She crept up to the window, careful to stay out of sight, but wanting to get a closer look. Judging by the wrinkles on Dean's forehead, she knew he was annoyed by whatever they were talking about. She could just imagine the heavy sarcasm effortlessly falling out of his mouth. She had two choices: go in and interrupt any sort of progress Sam had made to get him to come clean _or_ leave and give them more time to talk alone. Obviously the latter was the only logical option, and so she did just that. Without a second thought, she sprinted back down her road and made her way across town to her favorite spot—the woods. The one place that had brought her some sort of comfort throughout this entire disaster. The branches and green leaves seemed to surround her in some sort of embrace, cutting her off from whatever was going on outside of their reach. It always gave her the smallest sense of security, but it was enough.

Taking a deep breath, Allison took in the nature around her. There was just something about breathing in such fresh air. Spotting her ever faithful oak tree, she went over to it, tossing her backpack on the ground as a pillow before lying down. Looking up at all the branches above her, she closed her eyes, letting the swaying sounds of leaves and chirping birds drown out her thoughts. She had mountain of faith in her uncle—that he would somehow be able to make this all better, and she slowly felt her body overcome with a feeling of relaxation, something she hadn't felt in months. Things were going to get better—they just had to. Before she knew it, the birds' musical chorus had helped her drift off into dreamland.

* * *

Even though Sam had put his best loving, brotherly foot forward, Dean was still brushing off all attempts at "feeling" with his crude and harsh sarcasm that Sam had learned to just roll off his shoulder. It wasn't hard for Sam to pinpoint what he was feeling though—emptiness, guilt, anger, regret: the lethal Winchester combination. Wanting to take a break for pressuring him, Sam tried to lighten the subject for a few moments. "So did Ally have some after school activity or what?" he asked, casually glancing out the window and noticing that dusk was nearing.

Dean hesitated for a moment as he realized he _should_ know the answer to the question. It was a simple question—w_here was your daughter?_—but he had no idea what the answer truly was. It wasn't like they had been chit chatting much lately, let alone sharing their daily schedules. "I, uh, I don't think so," he replied, as a pang of worry filled the pit of his stomach.

As if on cue, Dean's cell phone chimed, signaling a text message had just come in. Feeling a sense of urgency, he roughly snatched it off of the table. "It's from Ally," he announced, but his relief was short lived. Small wrinkles appeared on his forehead as he furrowed his eye brows in confusion, trying to decipher the message.

Noticing a change in his expression, Sam sat up a little straighter. "What does it say?"

"Sg," Dean replied, turning the phone around for him to see.

"_Sg?_" he repeated. "You guys talking in code now?" he joked.

"No, Sam," Dean snapped. "I don't know what it means."

"Maybe you should call her," Sam suggested, but Dean already had the phone up to his ear, signaling for Sam to be quiet.

A few seconds of anxious silence passed as it continued to ring and ring. "She's not picking up." Underlying fear was creeping up in his tone.

"Well she has the phone because she just sent that text," Sam offered, trying to be the calm one.

"Why would she send a text and then not pick up?" Dean asked out loud. He stood up and started pacing back and forth across the living room, all kinds of wild ideas surging through his mind. He tried calling her 3 more times, but to no avail.

"It could have just been a mistake, Dean, there's nothing to freak out about yet," Sam reasoned.

Completely ignoring his brother, Dean raised his voice into the phone, "Allison Marie, I swear if you don't call me back right now, I'm going to…going to…." He slammed the phone shut angrily, unable to think of any sort of actual threat.

"Dean, let's just take a minute to-."

"Shut it, Sam! I don't need a fucking minute. I need to know where my daughter is!" Dean yelled, running a hand through his hair in frustration. His heart began to pound as it slowly crept up into his throat. All the imagines of the lore books and research websites flashed across his mind and he started to panic.

Sam stood up and yanked the cell phone from his hand. "Why don't you just use the GPS tracker we both know you installed on her phone." Once the app had loaded her location, he tossed the phone back to his brother.

"Baker's Woods? What the hell would she be doing there?" Dean asked, as if Sam would somehow know all of the answers.

"She's probably hanging out with some friends, Dean. It's what teenagers do these days. Let's just go over there _calmly_ and pick her up, okay?" He urged.

"No," he said in a low tone that didn't leave any room for discussion. His mind was clouded by every supernatural being that he had ever encountered. He couldn't get the thought out of his heard now-that was what had happened. Brushing past Sam, he took off down the hall to the nearest closet. Opening it and crouching down, he entered a code into the large, grey safe box they had.

"What are you doing?" Sam demanded.

"Something has her," Dean explained as if it were the most logical answer. He reached in and pulled out his .45 loading the clip into it in one swift motion.

"Woah, woah, Dean, you have a gun in your house?" Sam was taken off guard.

"Hell yes, Sam. You're telling me you _don't_?" Genuine shock in his voice.

Sam just shook his head, still in disbelief at what was happening, but knowing this wasn't the time to discuss kids and gun safety. Dean didn't want another second before standing up. "Hold on now, Dean!" Sam held up his hand, trying to block his brother's path to the door.

"Move, Sam," he commanded. When Sam didn't budge, he continued, "Something has my daughter and I intend to kill it. You can either come with me or get the hell out of my way."

Fire flickered behind Dean's eyes and Sam took a step aside as he shoved by him. Sam was quick to trail behind him, not trusting him to go anywhere alone. in his current mental state. "But, Dean, I mean, last time I checked, monsters weren't exactly tech savvy, sending out texts to their captive's fathers," Sam reasoned, but there was no point. Ignoring Sam's repeated attempts to convince him to calm down, he into the car and was about to peel out of the driveway as Sam jumped into the passenger's seat. "Dean, you're just going to show up and freak out a group of high school teenagers. Just let me go get her," Sam pleaded, but he wasn't listening to a single word. His mind was focused on only one thing: not letting another monster take his family from him.

* * *

Dean parked the car off into the ditch and got out, running to where the thick line of trees began. Once Sam had caught up, he turned to him and in a hushed voice said, "Make yourself useful." He handed the phone over to Sam, raised his gun, clicking off the safety and cocking it, and impatiently waited for Sam to point them in the right direction.

Sam sighed as he reluctantly obliged, pointing over to their left. The leaves crumbled and twigs snapped beneath their steps as they went deeper into the woods, even though they were trying to walk as lightly as possible. The sun was on the verge of disappearing below the horizon, but there was still enough light to make out their surroundings from the glimpses that were let in through the trees.

Finally Sam nudged his brother and pointed to a tree 10 feet off to their right. Dean's heart pounded against his chest as he saw his daughter's motionless body lying there beneath the tree. Without a second thought, he sprinted the final steps and knelt down beside her, shaking her shoulder with his free hand. "Ally! Allison!" he pleaded her to open her eyes.

At the sudden harsh shaking, Allison woke and jolted up. "What?!" she panicked, her eyes jumping back and forth between the sudden appearance of her uncle and father.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Sam asked as he helped her stand up.

"I'm fine. I just feel asl-," she began.

"Where is it?" Dean interrupted, splitting his glance between his daughter and open spaces around them. He held up the gun, pointing it off into the distance, prepared for whatever was about to come out at them.

At the sight of a raised gun, she instinctively took a step closer to Sam. "Where's what?" She tried to keep calm, but her breathing had increased and fear had taken over. She knew her father was mentally in a weird place, but she had never expected to see him with a gun.

"The thing that took you!" he demanded.

"What? Dad, I don't know how much you've had to drink, but no—."

Before this got even further out of hand, Sam took a few steps over to his brother, so he was facing him. He put his hand against Dean's chest, motioning to the backpack that was left lying on the ground. "She just fell asleep here, Dean. There's nothing supernatural going after her," he explained calmly, hoping the logic would finally sink in.

"Fell asleep?" Dean repeated, unsure if it were true, if something that _simple_ could explain all of this. "Then who sent the text message?" he yelled, gun still raised.

Allison had no idea what he was talking about, but his widening eyes demanded an answer. She reached into her jacket and pulled out her phone, quickly searching for the text she had supposedly sent her dad. Seeing a random text had been sent with "sg" in it, she explained, "I didn't _mean_ to send that text. It must have been an accident. I bet it happened when I was lying on my side or something." When nobody said anything or even changed positions, she added, "I'm sorry." The silence continued as everyone tried to digest what was going on.

Dean reached up to scratch his head and the silver of the gun stood out against the dark background. At the sudden movement of the gun, Allison let out an audible gasp and flinched, as she took another step backwards. She had never been in the direct presence of a weapon and she was terrified at what might happen. "Dean, c-c-c-an you just put the gun away? You're scaring me," she stuttered, paralyzed with fear.

There is was. She hadn't said _Dad_, but instead it was now_ Dean_. It was so unfamiliar to him that just hearing her use that name made him do a double take. And then he saw her face, truly saw what she was feeling. She had moved away from him, all but cowered at the sight of his gun moving, and he suddenly realized what was going on: Scared at being in the presence of a gun. Scared from all the supernatural talk. She was _scared _of him.

Laura and he had made sure that she was never involved in that life, that she would never grow up knowing the stuff he knew, doing the awful things he had done...No, she was going to have a completely different life. But for a moment, he had gotten way off track. He had let his grief lead him back into the life he had once known-the life that had been a comfort, a shelter for him for so many years. The drinking, the revenge, the hunting...he had reacted the same way his father had all those years ago and he was ashamed that he had let it happen.

"I only…I just…thought something had you," he tried to explain, holding the gun out in front of him at proof. Wanting to ease her fears, he slowly ejected the clip and handed it to Sam before putting the gun into the back waistline of his jeans. "I shouldn't of...I mean...it's not...," he tried to form some sort of coherent thought.

Noticing how his face softened and his demeanor started to change, Allison reassured, "Nothing has me, okay? I'm safe."

Dean paused as he looked at his daughter, meeting her eyes. And that's when he saw her-Laura's deep blue eyes staring back at him, searching for answers. The one distinctive trait that was passed on to their daughter from her, and for a moment, Dean was lost in them. Every memory of his wife that he had tried to push deep down now came flooding to the surface, and then the words came rolling off of his tongue before he had a chance to realize it. "Because you'll always be safe when I'm around." It was the phrase that Laura had repeated countless times to Allison her entire life, starting with the day they brought her home from the hospital. Laura had always reassured her that no boogeyman, playground bully, monster under her bed, or cootie could ever get her because for as long as her dad was around, he wasn't going to let it happen.

It was like the fog had finally cleared out of his mind and he was seeing what was in front of him for the first time in months. He couldn't believe he had actually threatened to take his daughter hunting again, to go back to that life, to force her to live every nightmare he already had. He was so caught up in his own grief that he was letting Laura _and_ Allison down even more. He wasn't going to let himself be like his father before him. Without hesitating a second longer, he reached out and did what he should have done since the day of Laura's funeral: he pulled Allison into a hug. At first she was taken off guard, not expecting the sudden burst of affection from the man who had been so cold with her during recent months. But after a few moments, she warmed up to the embrace and wrapped her arms around him, needing it as much as he did.

"Mom was right," she added, finally feeling like she could speak openly. It felt so good just to be able to say her name around him again: _Mom._

"Yeah, we're going to be just fine," Dean began, as he lovingly rested a hand on her head, pulling her in closer. Then, he added as an afterthought, "Right here." Allison knew exactly what he meant. They weren't going anywhere, there would be no hunting. Just the two of them trying to be the family they once were.

Allison squeezed him tighter, silently thanking him that her father was really back now. Suddenly, she felt a drop of water fall onto the top of her head. Thinking it was rain, she pulled back slightly to look up at the sky, but was shocked to realize that it wasn't rain at all, but a tear that had escaped her dad's softened, regret-filled eyes. She fell back into his chest and her own tears came freely now, unable to hold them back any longer. Her dad, the man she had looked up to for years, was back. Even though the healing process after the loss of a loved one would never be easy, at least now they could both finally begin to move forward—together.


End file.
